


You Are the Best Medicine

by canyousonicmedoctor



Series: Cartinelli Femslash February 2015 [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Drinking, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyousonicmedoctor/pseuds/canyousonicmedoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One bottle of schnapps, comin' right up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are the Best Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my version of what happened post-episode 3 and that bottle of schnapps.  
> This piece is for the "coming out" space on my femslash february bingo card provided by provided by femtropebingo.tumblr.com

“Shut up English, you talk too much.”

When Angie turns her back, Peggy wipes the tears that have gathered in her eyes, forcing herself to get control of her emotions. The black coffee in front of her is still scalding but the burn it provides as it goes down is more than welcome; the discomfort offers a distraction from the buzz of complicated emotions circling inside her skull.

She’s halfway done with her coffee when Angie steps out from the kitchen with a bag slung over her arm and a bright smile, despite the fact that she’s been on her feet at work all day. Peggy knows the feeling, even if she can’t quite manage to do the same today. 

Of course, Peggy offers to get a cab rather than walk like Angie was planning to do. “You’re too good to me, English,” Angie replies. It’s exactly the kind of thing Peggy needs to hear to bring a smile to her face. She knew coming to Angie was the right choice.

Angie talks the entire way back to the Griffith. It’s only a five minute cab ride and Angie fills it with talk of anything and everything that she can think of; the new movie she is just dying to go see once she gets her next paycheck; how her brother got in trouble with the law again; anything to keep Peggy’s mind off her day at work. Peggy focuses all her attention on Angie, the normalcy grounding her in this reality rather than the one that she keeps wrapped up with the SSR.

By the time she and Angie get up to the third floor, Peggy still hasn’t said much of anything. She can keep herself from crying like she almost did in the automat but she’s not quite ready to pretend like everything is fine. “Are you gonna be okay?” Angie asks with genuine concern on her face. She stares at Peggy while leaning against the doorframe, one hip cocked to the side in a way that is so delightfully Angie. 

“Yes,” Peggy says and she knows that she will be as long as Angie is there to help her along the way. Admitting Howard Stark is right about almost anything is about as painful as pulling teeth but she does need Angie for her support- not that she’ll ever tell him that. “Just give me a moment to put away my things and I’ll be right over.” 

Angie smiles at her before disappearing behind the door. Without Angie in Peggy’s sight, she feels a twinge of irrational, well not entirely irrational, fear that Angie will be hurt if Peggy isn’t by her side to protect her. It’s happened before with Colleen and Steve and Krzeminsky has only reminded her that no one is completely safe at any moment. She stows her bag underneath her bed and divests her feet of her heels in record time, rushing out of her room and into the hall like a madwomen being chased by a ghost. She barely has the chance to lower her hand after knocking before Angie flings open the door and ushers Peggy into her room.

“One bottle of schnapps, comin’ right up,” Angie promises as she fishes through her drawer while Peggy moves to sit on the bed. How she is still standing and so visibly pleased, Peggy will never understand. Well, she understands but still it is admirable. Seeing Angie here and safe makes her feel better and with the way Angie smiles at her, it’s easier to shed the hardships that come with being a secret agent and allow herself to have a nice night with her dearest friend.

“Thank you, Angie,” Peggy smiles and this time it feels genuine when Angie finally manages to procure the white bottle. She passes it over to Peggy for inspection, who looks it over gratefully. “Hm, peach,” Peggy observes, turning it over in her hands before twisting the cap off with a sharp twist of her wrist. It makes a satisfying pop when the bottle is opened and the sugary smell of fruit wafts out from the top.

“What, you don’t like peach?” Angie asks, crossing her arms over her chest. From the look on her face one would think that Peggy had just insulted her mother. 

“No, I do,” Peggy hurries to assure her. The last thing she wants is to upset Angie again, not after the other night and certainly not after she just got back into her good graces. “I’m simply admiring your taste in liquor.” Just sitting here with Angie puts her at ease in the most alarming kind of way. With her track record she should make sure Angie is as far away from her as possible but even now Peggy knows she doesn’t have the strength to do that; she got in far too deep before she even realized the danger was there.

Two small glasses follow the bottle out of Angie’s dresser and Peggy can’t hide her smile. “Do you by any chance also have a few plates or maybe a placemat hidden down there as well?” 

“Hardee har har,” Angie mock laughs at her. “You better be nice to me or I’ll take that back,” she warns. Peggy gives her a little salute and her best attempt at a serious expression while she’s fighting to keep from laughing. “Yes ma’am.”

“That’s better. Now are you gonna pour me a glass or what, grandma?” Angie joins her on the bed, taking a moment to kick off her kitten heels.

“My apologies,” Peggy says, filling the first glass three-quarters of the way full before handing it back to Angie. She does the same with her own, watching as Angie takes a sip of the clear liquid inside, her eyes slipping closed and a pleased hum emanating from somewhere deep in her throat. Angie certainly does know how to keep a girl’s focus, it would seem. 

It isn’t until Angie opens her eyes again that Peggy manages to look away to take a sip of her own drink. It is a rather good bottle, the alcohol not too syrupy and still sweet enough to not burn going down. “You have good taste,” Peggy repeats if only to have something to say, absently wiping at the lipstick mark she’s left behind on the glass. 

“Yeah, thanks, English. It was the cheapest bottle I could find, so ya know…” Angie shrugs and takes another long swallow. Clearly she isn’t looking to just get a bit buzzed and with how small Angie is, Peggy has no doubt that she could get properly drunk off of schnapps alone.

“Well it’s helping already, so thank you,” Peggy smiles behind her glass raised towards Angie. 

“You wanna talk some more about your day?” Angie asks and it’s kind of her to offer but that’s the last thing that Peggy wants to do. 

“Not particularly. However, I would be happy to hear about how yours went. You always have surprisingly interesting stories to tell.” Looking down into her glass, she realizes there’s only but a small amount left. Angie notices too and grabs the bottle, topping off her and Peggy’s glasses. 

Peggy drinks and as this next swallow goes down she begins to feel a slight buzz in the back of her head. It’s rather pleasant, leaving her feeling much more relaxed than she had before; a welcome reprieve. It isn’t often that Peggy allows herself to have a drink, or at least not enough to get her inebriated.

“Not much to tell, ya know? There’s the same jerks, ordering the same food, saying the same crap they always do.” An audible sigh slips from Angie’s lips before she drinks again. “I mean, it’s not nearly as exciting as your job seems to be.”

“I work at the telephone company,” Peggy lies, throwing a disbelieving chuckle into the mix to make it a bit more believable. “It’s hardly anything worth talking about, usually.” 

“What do you even do there? You never actually talk about what you do.” Angie looks up at her with the coy expression that Peggy has come to realize is her way of trying to wheedle information from her. The problem is that Peggy doesn’t want to keep secrets from Angie, but the truth would only put her in danger and nothing in the world is worth that.

“Oh it’s all terribly boring. You wouldn’t want to hear about the specifics, I promise.” Deflecting has become second nature to Peggy by now. “I told you about my day, now why don’t you tell me about yours.”

Folding her legs up onto the bed, Angie leans back against the wall and starts talking. For all her effort spent trying to get Peggy to talk, she has an awful lot to say about what goes on down at the automat. Peggy copies her posture, tucking her legs up on the bed while she listens to Angie go on about her day and sips from the glass in her hand. 

By the time Angie finishes her complaint about how no one leaves good tips anymore, with an amended, “Except you, English,” Angie is ready for a refill. Peggy feels particularly loose having already filled her glass again and provides her with one gladly.

“And the guys that come through are the worst,” Angie goes on as she holds out her glass for Peggy to pour into. “And I can’t even say anything to them ‘cause I’ll get the boot. I mean how bonkers is that?”

Angie sighs again, this time slipping down to rest her head on Peggy’s shoulder. “I can handle them being loud and rude, but when they try to pull off slapping my backside, ugh I just wanna sock ‘em right in the kisser.” Peggy can’t help but laugh at that, picturing Angie standing up to a man and taking him down with one punch.

“What you don’t think I could do it?” Angie asks defensively, sitting up as a frown returning to her face. In her current state, it looks more like a pout than anything else. 

“Oh, I absolutely believe you could. I’m simply imagining it and I do think it would certainly be a sight to see,” Peggy chuckles and Angie returns to her place on Peggy’s shoulder. 

“Good. I would hate to have to,” Angie is interrupted by a yawn, “show you. I wish I could teach those jerks a lesson. I guess most boys are like that, dontcha think?” Peggy freezes, muscles tensing involuntarily because she knew a man who wasn’t like that.

“Not all of them,” Peggy says softly, staring down into her cup and finishing off the rest to try and stave off the too strong emotions trying to make an appearance. “But most are, I agree.”

“Well until I find one of those, I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

“About?” 

“Boys. And it’s worse ‘cause my Ma keeps askin’ when I’m gonna get hitched. I wish I could just tell her no boy is gonna catch my eye so she should quit askin’,” Angie says in a sigh. For the second time that night Peggy is caught off guard.

“And, might I ask, who does catch your eye?” Peggy asks, choosing her words carefully, looking down at Angie to see how she reacts. Her face scrunches up just for a moment as though she’s putting a lot of thought into her answer.

Finally, she asks, “What did you mean earlier tonight when you were talkin’ about the jerk in the booth fancying me?” Peggy had rather hoped Angie would have taken that little comment at face value, only having realized what she was implying once the words had slipped out of her mouth. 

“Fancying is an English term for,” Peggy begins, but Angie is far too intelligent for her stalling tactics to be of any use.

“You know what I mean,” Angie admonishes, shoving her shoulder into Peggy’s arm like that will make her spill her secrets.

“I simply meant the man in booth seemed to want your attention very much.” Angie shifts so that she’s sitting up and able to look Peggy in the face.

“Liar,” she accuses. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the mixture of fire and uncertainty in Angie’s eyes combined with the proximity that makes Peggy lean forward and gently press her lips to Angie’s. Whatever it is, it’s either the best or worst idea she’s had in a long time and quite frankly, in that moment she doesn’t give a damn. She’s only there for a moment, long enough to get the point across before she has to take a metaphorical step back and see Angie’s reaction. There’s a good chance she’s read all the signs wrong. 

Without missing a beat, Angie lays her head back on Peggy’s shoulder. Peggy would think she was ignoring what happened if she didn’t grab Peggy’s hand and lace their fingers together. 

Peggy’s first instinct is to run because running keeps people safe but that’s exactly the opposite of what she wants. Tonight is a night of self-indulgence so just this once she might see what it’s like to stay. 

“You,” Angie says with no context at all. 

“What?”

“You’re what’s caught my eye,” Angie explains, turning her face and pressing a kiss to Peggy’s shoulder through her dress. 

“I rather do agree with you,” Peggy begins, leaning her own head down until it’s resting on top of Angie’s. “Most of the boys around here aren’t worth a moment of your time.” At that, Angie just laughs and burrows tighter into Peggy’s side, yawning again.

And as far as selfish decisions go, Peggy has to say that this is a pretty good one to make.


End file.
